


A Lean Mean Snowball-Throwing Machine

by ElementKitsune



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Snowball Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElementKitsune/pseuds/ElementKitsune
Summary: Shiro loses a snowball fight to his boyfriend. It's more fun than he expects.





	A Lean Mean Snowball-Throwing Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeithChief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeithChief/gifts).



> For Mel. Hope you like it!

In hindsight, Shiro should have seen this coming.

In the middle of winter, Lance likes to call himself a “lean mean snowball-throwing machine”, except he’s more like a lean mean popsicle who likes to shove ice cold hands under Shiro’s shirt and onto his stomach whenever he’s feeling mischievous—that isn’t the point.

The point is that there is snow down Shiro’s back, in his face, and a far too pleased smirk on  _ Lance’s  _ face.

“Really?” he grumbles, and Lance only shrugs back at him. “Was that necessary?”

Lance’s expression then passes from the stage of I Am Very Pleased With My Actions Smirk to the Playful Eyebrow Raise.

“Yes,” Lance says decisively. “It’s very necessary for holiday cheer.” Then he launches another snowball at Shiro’s face, which Shiro is… not quite fast enough to completely dodge.

So, instead, he lets himself fall onto the snowy ground with a snowy back and a snowy face and a not-snowy boyfriend. Except the not-snowy boyfriend remains upright and starts cackling, so Shiro promptly takes the opportunity to quickly roll up a snowball and  _ attack _ .

His aim has never been the best, so Shiro isn’t really expecting to hit Lance anywhere. Maybe just see the snowball fly by and slam into a tree or the ground. Instead, he watches in awestruck (and maybe a little bit awful) glee as the snowball slams right into the moneymaker, as Lance would call it.

“My beautiful face!” he exclaims, and Shiro doesn’t bother to hold back the snickering. That earns him another snowball because neither of them understand the concept of mercy in snowball fights, but it’s worth it. Especially since Lance is laughing as Shiro starts to pelt snowballs back just as fast (but with considerably less accuracy).

Lance then darts behind a tree (though managing one last parting snowball straight at Shiro’s heart) and Shiro comes charging after him. He’s then pleasantly surprised when he catches up to Lance and receives a peck on the cheek instead of a  _ snowball  _ to said cheek. 

“Got tired of attacking me?” Shiro asks with a raised eyebrow, and Lance just pokes him.

“Got  _ cold, _ ” he huffs, and  _ that _ is the cue for Shiro to open his arms and attempt to envelop his boyfriend in them. Lance’s nose digs into his neck, and Shiro fights off the instinctive reaction to bolt because of the nose growing increasingly more cat-like.

“I know what you’re thinking,” mumbles Lance, and Shiro hums.

“What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking that my nose is cold and damp and that you want to run.”

Shiro pauses. “Well. Yes.”

Lance lightly slaps his chest, and Shiro laughs at that, quiet and a little bit muffled in Lance’s hair. “You’re a jerk,” huffs Lance, but Shiro can feel the smile against his neck so it’s not as effective an insult as it could be.

“You must have bad taste then, since you’re dating me.”

That’s when Lance shrugs and pulls away. “What can ya do?” he asks wryly, and Shiro may or may not roll his eyes. It’s debatable.

What’s  _ not _ debatable is the sudden shock of cold that runs down Shiro’s back, or the  _ cat that just gobbled the canary and all its cousins _ grin that sneaks its way onto Lance’s face as Shiro yelps because  _ oh okay that was snow and probably ice and really really  _ **_cold._ **

“Merry Christmas, babe!” Lance cackles, and Shiro gives him a grim look. Then, after a bout of shivers, he swoops down, hooks an arm under Lance’s legs, and is firmly holding him in bridal position.

Lance looks up at him with wide eyes, and definitely some trepidation as Shiro starts walking towards the biggest pile of snow that he can see.

Shiro smiles. “Oops,” he says, and then promptly drops his wonderful snowball launching boyfriend into a snowbank.

“Oops, he says,” grumbles Lance, and stares up at the sky. “You just dropped me into a snowbank  _ completely _ on purpose, this is  _ not _ an oops worthy moment.”

Instead of answering immediately, Shiro just looms, and then makes eye contact. “ _ Oops _ ,” he repeats, and that’s when Lance rolls up a pant leg and shoves snow down Shiro’s boot.

This, of course, spawns a yelp and Shiro immediately falls onto his butt, kicking off his boot to try and shake the snow out from where it was starting to melt into his sock. (sidenote: this is not the most effective strategy, as it exposes his not properly winter socked foot to the icy wasteland that is the exaggerated form of winter, and there is an unfortunate sliver of exposed ankle skin to the merciless wind)

Shiro gives Lance a baleful look, which does absolutely nothing to guilt trip him and does absolutely everything to make him laugh. (side observation: it’s a very nice laugh that makes Shiro’s chest feel warm and puts a smile on his face, but it is a laugh that is reacting to his frozen foot which makes him pout—scowl, he means scowl)

“Babe, you gonna put your boot back on?” Lance asks, roguish grin firmly in place.

Shiro half-heartedly tosses more snow at him before putting the boot back on and wincing at the the squelching feeling that quickly follows. “Alright, you win the snowball war,” he sighs, and then stands, pulling Lance up in the process.

The reaction is a raised eyebrow and Lance’s knuckles brushing his cheek before drifting away again. “Woooow, you’re  _ cold,” _ he exclaims, and Shiro responds through a mere  _ oh gee, I wonder why? _ look of judgement on his face.

Lance’s response seems to be a  _ point taken _ expression, and his grin turning sheepish before he pecks Shiro on the nose.

“At least we have a heater?” he half-says, half-asks. Shiro grumbles but he doesn’t disagree, just puts his head into the crook of Lance’s neck and smiles a bit when Lance squawks from the cold. “For the record, I did  _ not  _ mean me.”

“Too late now,” Shiro mumbles, and maybe he deserves the light swat to the back of his head. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, no regrets.

“Yuuuup.” Lance pokes his cheek. “Wanna go home?”

Shiro’s response is a groan, but he lifts his head from where it had been comfortably nestled and takes Lance’s head. That, probably, is response enough.

And the reply to  _ that _ is Lance snickering and taking his hand, sending fuzzy warmth through his veins until Shiro has to look away because he’s just—

He’s in love with this boy, and sometimes it’s too much to face head on. Even if it’s just simple moments, when there is snow down his back and his front and on his head and in his boot to make him shiver but there’s a hand in his and that pushes all the shivers away.

The impulse to lift Lance’s hand to his lips comes to mind and Shiro doesn’t push it down, only smiles when Lance blinks at the kiss. Then Lance moves to plant a kiss himself and Shiro smiles too much to make it pleasant, breaking off when the laughter becomes too much to hold down.

“I love you,” he says and hears his echo in Lance’s voice, sees it in the way Lance looks at him.

“Love you too, cariño,” Lance hums, and.

And for Shiro, this is it.

(they warm up eventually, under layers of blankets and leaving their soggy clothes by the heater)

(and it’s wonderful)


End file.
